Caregiving – taking care of one another – is an important part of family life.  We are all born defenseless and in need of care, and many of us will end our lives in a similar “second childhood” dependent on others to care for us. And with very few exceptions, most of us will spend some of our lives as caregivers. Expectant…

iPhones?  facebook? tech-free life? or toys that beep?

knitting? gardening? skateboarding? or trapeze-ing?

fine lace? ripped jeans? sweater vests? or tube tops?

twittering? texting? sending postcards? or visiting?

I’m imagining a large-scale poll, administered by Gallup or the like, that tracks dozens of statements  in the form  “I love____” across ages 1-100.  “I love facebook” would probably spike at the 25-30 range, “I love David Letterman” a decade or two older, “I love xbox” around 15 or so, “I love canasta” certainly in the later generations of the graph. My point being: different generations like different things.

In Uganda nearly six years ago, I took a little boy to the hospital. He was a resident of the orphanage where I volunteered, and he had to go to the hospital fairly regularly for checkups; he’d lived with HIV since birth. He loved going to the hospital because he got to ride in a truck, and miss school, and eat special treats like a biscuit or banana… or even candy, if his chaperon was feeling generous. A few days later we were watching a sports event at his school, and he entertained himself by rattling off all the nicknames he could call me. L’s and R’s interchange in Luganda to give him many options: “Talitha, or Terither, or Tally, or Terry, or T, or mummy… can I call you mummy?”

This cryptic symbol showed up on the wall at our youth group retreat. No, it wasn’t graffiti… Susan had written it up. She challenged the youth to find a way to explain what it might mean. It’s a good puzzle.

Take a moment to guess…..